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| the windsylph shows her power indifferent to the will of man or mage |
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shifting shapes the rough clump shrubs
are swaying in the storm
heaving headwind races on
and roars across the moor
creaking doors and thumping thuds
as from their hinges torn
battered slats are hurled amok and tumbling
to the floor
spilling into rocky gullies
spinning leaves in shocks and funnels
curving
coiling
gusting wild
this shenannie somehow riled
and angry at the world
into the gaping gulch she dives
to gather speed and menace
fallen trees strewn in her wake
lie helpless torn and finished
creatures all will hide and wait
the tempest wreaking vengeance on the tyranny of fate
what e’re the mage proclaim and say
she the wind will have her way
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| avalon | the faerie maid of morning | zize zuze zoze and zaze |
| the bunch | luna | she and she |
| the irish harp | cellos of ceres |
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